Kitsune
by WolfStar4
Summary: AU. It's Rosalee Calvert's wedding day, but her happiness is cut short when her fiancé Monroe is kidnapped. Now Rosalee must find her missing groom while coming to terms with her past, not only in this life, but in a previous one in Feudal Japan, with the help of her friends, family, and a little ancestral intervention. Warnings in first Author Note.
1. The Wedding Day

**Warnings: Contains violence, noncon/discussions thereof, racism/discussions thereof, language, and an extended look into Monroe and Rosalee's past lives together. Particularly triggering segments will be noted.**

_A/N: This idea came about before the finale of the third season of Grimm, completed as a project for Camp NaNoWriMo July 2014._  
_Bree Turner, the actress who plays Rosalee, looks very much like a Japanese national the author met while living in Spain, which informed a large portion of this story. I researched as much as I could, and absolutely no offense is intended in the course of the story; however, if something is described or used incorrectly, please let me know and I will fix it.  
All characters are property of their respective owners (ie, NBC Universal for most, OCs are mine).  
__Feedback is appreciated! Please R&R._

* * *

Rosalee Calvert stood patiently as her maid of honor, Juliette Silverton, fussed with her veil. Rosalee's sister, DeEtta, had taken their mother, Gloria, down to the ceremony site. Rosalee desperately wanted to pace, expend this excess energy... she smiled slightly. That was Monroe rubbing off on her. She closed her eyes and sighed, imagined him in the suit she'd seen hanging in the closet; he was over six feet tall, lanky but strong. She imagined his dark mass of slightly curly hair slicked back, and his hazel eyes shining, as they often did, with love for her. He was such a big guy, but he really was a big puppy at heart: excitable, loyal, sweet. Unlike any other Blutbad she'd ever met. And he loved her. For all her faults, past and present, he loved her. Her big, sweet goofball fiancé, who, in less than an hour, would be her big, sweet goofball husband.

"There!" Juliette said finally, drawing Rosalee from her thoughts. The redhead held a small mirror up, and Rosalee looked herself over. Her big, dark brown eyes met her reflection's before flitting to her hair, the veil perched within a mass of tight, dark curls. Tears welled in her eyes. She looked like a bride. She smiled.

"How do I look?" she asked quietly. Juliette smiled back widely.

"Perfect. Beautiful." Rosalee gently wiped away her tears, while trying not to ruin her makeup.

"You think he'll like it?" Juliette laughed.

"You know he'd love anything you wore today as long as the two of you were married at the end of the day. I'm sure if you walked down the aisle naked..." Rosalee started laughing.

"If I walked down the aisle naked, he wouldn't go through with the ceremony, because he'd grab me and find the nearest quiet spot to... well, you know..." They giggled together. Rosalee's Fuchsbau nose picked up a new scent. Nick. The Grimm came around the bend, sunglasses perched on his nose. It was a bright, sunny day, and Nick now looked like the most sensible one in the bunch with his sunglasses, which he was wearing to hide his "Grimm woge". Nick pushed the sunglasses up to his forehead to take a better look at the ladies. His eyes settled on his girlfriend for a long moment before he turned his attention to Rosalee with a smile.

"Wow, look at you!" He took Rosalee's hands and looked her over, eyes following the details of Rosalee's dress. The beading sparkled in the sunlight.

"Did Monroe send you to spy on me?" the bride laughed.

"Yeah, he wanted to make sure you were doing okay. So you're not thinking of running away or anything, right?" Rosalee smiled and shook her head, curls bouncing.

"No! I wouldn't do that to him! I'm ready for this! How's he holding up?"

"Wearing a hole in the ground pacing. Or, you know, a normal Saturday. But I'll go let him know you're not..." The rest of Nick's words were drowned out by a large explosion in the direction of the ceremony site. Rosalee woged, soft red and white fox fur covering her features in her surprise, and Nick grabbed Juliette protectively as she shrieked.

"Shit!" Nick growled, taking off running toward the tower of smoke, Rosalee and Juliette following close behind.


	2. The Missing Groom

The scene was absolute chaos in the wake of the explosion; many Wesen guests were woging in utter panic. Thankfully their panic was not made worse by the presence of the Grimm, whose sunglasses hid the deep, infinite darkness of his eyes. Nick, Juliette, and Rosalee found the tent where the men had been getting ready in flames, and Hank Griffin, Nick's partner in the Portland Police Department and Monroe's other attendant, crawled out. Once safely away from the burning wreckage, he sat in the grass, bringing a hand to his bloody forehead.

"Hank? Hank, are you okay?" Juliette shrieked as the three of them surrounded him, kneeling on the grass. Hank blinked a few times.

"Are you talking to me?" he asked. He stopped, put a finger in his ear, and then asked again, louder, "ARE YOU TALKING TO ME? MY EARS WON'T STOP RINGING!" Juliette whipped out her clutch, containing her "Wedding Emergency Kit" and started cleaning off Hank's forehead with an alcohol wipe.

"Stay here," Nick muttered to Rosalee as he made his way toward the flaming tent. Rosalee suddenly realized she didn't see Monroe anywhere. She looked around wildly, hoping he would appear.

"He isn't in there!" Hank shouted at Nick's back. "I don't know where he went, but he isn't in there!" At that moment, the tent collapsed and just beyond it, a movement of white caught Rosalee's eye. Rosalee jumped up, made three large paces, and grabbed Nick's arm.

"Look!" She pointed at a tree near the explosion site; a paper flapping in the smoke-filled breeze. A glint of metal at the top caught Rosalee's eye, and she ran over to it.

"Rosalee, be careful!" Nick shouted, running after her. The Fuchsbau and the Grimm arrived in front of the tree, and found a piece of fancy notepaper covered in dense block of precise Japanese kanji characters being held up by a star-shaped shuriken. Rosalee skimmed the words while Nick pulled the ninja star gingerly from the bark with a tissue.

"Nick, be careful," Rosalee echoed as she snatched the paper.

"What the hell is this?" Nick wondered aloud.

"Japanese. It says Kitsune. Me. They took him because they want me." She grabbed his hand and all but dragged him away from the fire, back toward the mass of panicking wedding guests. "Evidently, I have a score left unsettled. Look," she pointed at the glyphs, 'an eye for an eye.' She shook her head, trying to stay calm. "I have to find my mother." They didn't need to look far, as everyone was now gathered around the fire. Some were on their phones with the fire department while a doctor was looking Hank over. Rosalee found Gloria in the kerfuffle with Monroe's parents, Bart and Alice. Alice was in a state, tears welling up in her blue eyes.

"Where is my son?" she sobbed as her husband woged in anger, turning to Nick, grabbing the smaller man by the knot of his tie.

"What the hell is going on, Grimm?" he hissed. "Did you set this up?" Nick raised his hands defensively.

"No, Sir, I had nothing to do with it! Honest!" Rosalee put a hand on Bart's arm.

"He's telling the truth." She held out the paper, and Gloria snatched it, reading with brow deeply furrowed. Bart and Alice looked over her shoulder.

"What the hell is that? Chinese?" Bart asked

"Japanese," Gloria corrected, her answer clipped. She read the note and her face went pale. "Oh, no! A husband for a husband... Rosie, what did you do?" The two Vixens looked at each other with growing panic.

"I don't know!"

"But what does it say? That can't be all it says! Where is my son?" Alice whimpered. Gloria looked at her daughter, then back at the paper as she began to read.

"_Kitsune, I trust you are happy on this day of your wedding. However, you owe me a debt: a husband for a husband, an eye for an eye. I came to collect; however, there is much more to settle. Find him if you can!_ Rosie! Who would do this?" Rosalee's calm façade was cracking, and her terror began to shine through.

"I don't know, Mom!"

"Did you tell him who you were?" Rosalee nodded. Gloria sighed.

"Well, mom, we're friends with a Grimm, conduits for the Wesen Council, and a bunch of other stuff, so I figured he deserved to know what else might come back to haunt us... I had to!"

"No, I understand, honey... I told your father before our wedding, too."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Bart interjected, "but what the hell is even going on here?" Gloria stood a little taller.

"Bart, umm... Rosalee and I come from a long line of onna-bugeisha and shinobi..."

"Umm, can we get that in English?" Juliette asked. Rosalee exhaled forcefully as she dropped her eyes.

"Umm... well... I used to be a... well, a ninja. And somebody clearly thinks I owe them something..." Rosalee looked up to find Nick, Juliette, Bart, and Alice all staring at her with the same open mouth. Hank looked confused.

"What?" he asked. Rosalee knelt again to his level.

"HOW'S YOUR HEARING? GETTING BETTER?" she asked.

"A little... why is everyone looking at you funny?"

"IT'S A LONG STORY, BUT WE NEED TO GET YOU TO THE SHOP." She stood and helped Hank and Juliette to their feet. Alice grabbed Rosalee's arm.

"But what about Monroe?!" Rosalee took her future mother-in-law's hand and squeezed it.

"I'll find him, but I'm going to need my notes and some... other stuff. Trust me, okay? I'm going to find him."

"No," Nick interjected, placing a gentle hand on Rosalee's shoulder. "We're going to find him."

"We have to get back to the shop... where the hell is DeEtta?" Her question was answered by her sister's appearance at her side.

"Jesus, Rosie, I just pop into the bathroom and all hell breaks loose... Anyway, 911 is sending somebody for the fire..." The older sister looked at the group, lingering on Alice's tear-streaked face as the gravity of the situation hit her. "Rosie... where's Monroe?"

"I don't know... We need to get to the shop. And Nick, you might want to call Trubel, because if this is as bad as I think it is, we're going to need all the help we can get."


	3. The Truth Comes Out

Teresa Rubel met the group at the shop, and they all gathered inside. Rosalee bustled around without a word, pulling out ingredients to make Hank's ears stop ringing. DeEtta and Gloria trailed behind, trying not to tread on the train of her wedding dress. Once all of the ingredients were gathered, Gloria started mixing the concoction as Rosalee continued to walk around the shop, pulling things out from seemingly everywhere: weapons, powders, and notebooks, endless notebooks, handing them to DeEtta. After a few passes around the shop, Juliette finally stepped into the bride's path and stopped her.

"Okay, Rosalee, I know you're upset, but why don't you change out of that dress before you ruin it?" Rosalee looked at her friend uncomprehendingly for a moment before looking down. Sure enough, the ivory lace and beading mocked her. She wasn't supposed to take it off; her husband was, with gentle kisses and roaming hands as they sealed their promise to each other.

"Oh," she whispered, tears peeking out of the corners of her eyes. She turned abruptly and went into the bathroom. She and Monroe both kept spare changes of clothes there just in case. Rosalee unzipped the dress and let it fall. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, imagined his large, strong hands running along her skin; she imagined his prickly beard on her neck as he kissed her ear... The tears were fighting to be allowed to fall. She needed him back. She couldn't lose him, not like this. Vision blurred, she hung up the dress and opened the drawer with their spare clothes. She quickly pulled on her spare jeans, but instead of her own sweater, she grabbed his flannel shirt, shoving her nose into it to smell him. His scent calmed her. It was entirely too big for her, but she didn't care; she needed something, anything, of his close to her. She wiped her eyes on his sleeve and went back out to the others.

Gloria was finishing up with Hank when Rosalee came back out of the bathroom. She, Juliette, and DeEtta wore matching looks of pity; even if Juliette couldn't smell like a Fuchsbau, she could still tell by the sheer amount of fabric hanging off Rosalee that it was her fiancé's shirt. Juliette took a step toward her friend.

"Here, let me get that for you," she said sadly as she unpinned Rosalee's veil. Rosalee's hair fell in tight curls as her shoulders shook. The last vestige of her bridal outfit removed, she blinked hard. Gloria mimed to Hank to hold some cotton balls in his ears before she embraced her daughter around the waist.

"It's okay, Rosie-chan. You can be weak; we'll protect you." Rosalee looked around at her friends, who all nodded in agreement before she buried her face in her mother's poofy hair and wept. Bart, Hank, Nick, and Trubel looked on awkwardly as DeEtta, Juliette, and Alice wrapped themselves around Rosalee in a big group hug. Nick and Trubel shared an impatient glance before turning to Rosalee's notebooks. Trubel flipped open a notebook and found a solid block of kanji Japanese with some drawings of weapons and plants. Not helpful. She showed it to Nick, who rolled his eyes. He was getting better with reading German, but Japanese is a totally different animal... They'll just have to wait for Rosalee to pull herself together. Nick was about to turn to Monroe to ask if he knew any Japanese, but remembered (thankfully before he opened his mouth) that Monroe wasn't there. Oh, right. But a realization washed over Nick in that moment like a kick in the face: Rosalee felt like this was all her fault, but it was partially his, too. He was the Best Man; it was his job to take care of the groom. He left Monroe and Hank; if he had been there, he could have stopped them... But he was checking on Rosalee to ease Monroe's doubts... ugh, this was so complicated. Nick looked up and noticed Rosalee looking at him; even through her own intense sorrow, she seemed to sense what he was feeling as she disentangled herself from the big group hug. Gloria took the opportunity to check on Hank, pulling the cotton balls from his ears and testing them by snapping her fingers. Hank broke into a relieved smile for a moment before standing. Apparently whatever Gloria had put in his ears worked. Meanwhile, Nick and Rosalee met in the center of the shop; the Grimm took the Fuchsbau into a tight embrace, and Nick felt himself begin to tear up a little as well.

"Rosalee, I'm so sorry! If I had been there..." He buried his face in her curls with a slight sniffle.

"Nick, I don't know if you could have stopped them. You don't know who we're dealing with..." Bart finally reached the end of his patience and exploded.

"Then can you please tell us what the hell we are dealing with? I'm tired of this cryptic... weird... shit! You're a ninja? What is this?" Gloria stepped away from Hank and toward the Blutbad patriarch.

"Yes, Bart. Rosalee was a ninja. And so was I." Bart's anger gave way to confusion.

"But..."

"Yes, I know we don't look it, but I'm half Japanese and Rosalee and DeEtta are a quarter. My father was a guard at an internment camp here on the West Coast during World War Two. One of the women there was a beautiful Japanese maiden, my mother. The realized they were both... well, in Europe we say Fuchsbau, but in Japan we are called Kitsune, as we inspired the legends of shape-shifting fox women. Anyway, they realized that they were the same sort of Wesen, and that turned my father's heart. They fell in love, and he protected her and her family from abuse. After the War was over, they married and had me and my siblings... we're considered what is called Jomon Japanese, from the south of Japan. Rosalee actually looks just like my mother, but with lighter hair, with the big eyes and the more European-looking features... " she waved her hand as if to shoo away an unnecessary train of thought. "Anyway, my mother came from a long line of onna-bugeisha... that is, female samurai, and shinobi, ninja. She was trained in the ways of our ancestors, as was I. As was Rosalee." Bart's mouth was hanging open, and he shook himself.

"And you said my son knew about this?" Rosalee nodded.

"Yes, but as I said, apparently I left something unsettled. I thought I had tied up all my loose ends..."

* * *

Rosalee should have realized he would notice. He was, after all, one of the most detail-oriented people she knew. About a month after Rosalee moved in, a section of unpainted plywood wall in the basement started getting small gashes in it. Soon, a small portion of the wall about as large as Monroe's hand was splintered. It couldn't be bugs, but what was it?

Whenever Monroe would come home from working a case with Nick, he would go straight downstairs to change his clothes, especially if it was one that required getting his hands dirty. One night, after a particularly nasty case involving a Skalengeck, Monroe went downstairs, pulling off his flannel shirt that now stank of blood and less-than-hygienic Lizard Man. As he passed the wall, a glint of light caught his eye. His blood ran cold to see a cross-shaped blade sticking out of the wood. Oh, God. He hadn't seen or heard Rosalee when he came in... Before he could stop himself, his voice raised in panic.

"ROSALEE! ROSALEE WHERE ARE YOU?" He ran up the stairs blindly and nearly bowled her over at the top.

"Honey, honey, what?" she asked as he grasped her tight, running his fingers through her hair.

"You aren't hurt, are you?" he asked, looking her over. She cocked her head.

"No? What...?" He grabbed her wrist and dragged her downstairs. He pointed at the blade. Rosalee paled.

"Oh, that." She walked over to the wall and easily removed it. She turned to Monroe and bit her lip. "Monroe, umm, I have some things I need to tell you..." The couple stared at each other for a moment before Monroe finally spoke.

"So... you're the one leaving the holes in the wall." It was not an accusation, nor was there any trace of fear in his voice; if nothing else, he sounded relieved that a puzzle had been solved.

"Oh, you noticed..." He raised his eyebrows. Duh. She held it flat in her hand, offering it to him. "It's a shuriken. Be careful, it's very sharp." He gingerly picked it up and examined it.

"So you're a ninja?" he asked quietly, his face for once unreadable. She nodded, avoiding his gaze.

"My family... we started as onna-bugeisha... female samurai, but yeah, we kind of did evolve into shinobi..."

"Throw it! I wanna see!" Monroe's serious façade cracked, and the excitable puppy came to the surface. She carefully took the weapon back from him and, with a flick of her wrist, embedded it in the wall. She turned back to him, and he swept her into his arms, kissing her deeply.

"That was so hot!" he whispered when they parted. "My girlfriend is a ninja!"

"Was," she corrected, putting her ear to his chest, seeking out his heartbeat. "I retired. I just like to keep my skills in tune in case they're needed."

"Wow..." he certainly seemed taking this well, at any rate.

"You aren't upset I didn't tell you? Or mad or anything?" His grip got tighter around her waist.

"No, this is... This is really cool. It also explains a lot... And it's actually really sexy..." He captured her lips in a desperate kiss, and she felt his lust growing, throbbing against her waist.

"Actually..." she breathed, walking her fingers up his bicep, "I have a few moves I could show you..."

"Is the end result us in bed naked? Because if it is, I am a hundred percent here for that!" Rosalee disentangled herself from his embrace in one swift movement and was already at the foot of the stairs. She turned, and gently shook her head; her fox features came to the surface, and she winked one glowing gold eye before darting up the stairs. He growled slightly before he followed her.

* * *

"And you said my son knew about this?" Rosalee nodded.

"Yes, but as I said, apparently I left something unsettled. I thought I had tied up all my loose ends..."

"Did you ever kill anybody?" Bart asked, crossing his arms. Rosalee raised her eyebrows and gestured toward her notebooks.

"I kept a record of all my targets. Some of them were in a sort of mercenary capacity, but most were not for profit. Most were on behalf of others, not for my own advancement or protection. Most. Many of them were not outright kills, more like... very strong threats." Bart turned to Gloria.

"And you did this, too?" Gloria nodded.

"But I retired a long time ago... and times were different back then. However, I may or may not have used my skills to protect some of my friends when they were dodging the draft." Bart nodded his approval.

"I think I can respect that... so what do we need to do to sort through these notebooks? It looks like a lot." Rosalee made a face and clucked her tongue.

"Unfortunately, there isn't a lot you guys can do..."

"Why not?" Alice asked. Her agitation was still apparent, but she seemed to be getting tired. Trubel grabbed a notebook from the pile and held it open for Alice.

"Unless you can read Japanese?" the younger Grimm supplied. Alice put a hand to her forehead.

"Oh my God, my son... they're going to kill him..." Gloria put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"They won't. There is a certain degree of honor still, and they will likely not kill him without giving Rosie the chance to find him and fight for him. He is a prize... and I mean that in the best way possible... Juliette, dear, could you perhaps make Alice a cup of tea to calm her nerves?" Juliette appeared at her other elbow, leading her toward the small Bunsen burner Rosalee kept in the shop for boiling water. Bart sighed and followed his wife, asking for a cup as well. Gloria, Rosalee, and DeEtta divided the pile of notebooks and began to look through them as the others milled around.


	4. Rin

Rin Mori studied her reflection in the mirrored countertop of her store; her shiny black bob is getting a little long, she should probably cut it again. She sighed, adjusting her white kimono, watching the embroidered golden dragons flow and snap. Some college students were wandering around the shop, trying to decide on last-minute purchases. She had received a text around noon stating that the operation had been a success, and now she was waiting for five pm so she could close up and go verify the job was done. She opened her private drawer and pulled out the newspaper clipping for the thousandth time. Yes, Rosalee looked just like Rin remembered; however, the man she was engaged to was rather funny-looking in Rin's estimation. He looked older, with a big nose and poofy, curly hair. Probably Jewish. She had come to the conclusion that he was either wealthy or extraordinary in the bedroom; either way, it would sweeten her revenge that much more. Wouldn't it be wonderful if he was both? Dear Rosie-chan was going to regret what she had done...

"Umm, excuse me?" Rin looked up to find the college students were standing in front of her holding some toys from the Studio Ghibli collection.

"Yes?" Rin glared down her sharply pointed nose as the girls. Two were blonde, Americans. The third was not Japanese… wider, flatter nose, somewhat darker skin… probably Korean. Their dresses were not squarely in one of the Lolita subgenres she was familiar with, but they looked somewhere between Classic and Gothic, with a large number of brass gears and buckles... what was the term that was really popular right now? Steampunk? Perhaps that was more what they were doing. Rin wanted to gag. '_Oh, yes, sooooo kawaii,_' she thought to herself.

"Why are these so expensive?" the taller blonde asked.

"Because they're imported directly from Japan. We are the only shop in town that carries authentic Miyazaki merchandise." '_And because we know you idiots will buy it_,' she finished in her head. The blonde girls turned to the Korean.

"Could you get your parents to send us some instead? We can give you money?" The Korean girl swallowed. Rin smiled slightly. Time to have some fun.

"Oh, you're an exchange student?" she asked. The girl looked up at the woman like a trapped animal, eyes pleading, begging not to be outed as a fraud. "Where are you from?" The girl dropped her eyes. Rin asked again, this time in Japanese. The girl's shoulders began to shake as her companions looked confused. Rin switched to Korean. "I said, where are you from, you lying, ill-bred dog!"

"I am from Seoul! I grew up in Gangnam!" The taller American cocked her head.

"Isn't Seoul in South Korea?" The exchange student started crying. "Why did you tell us you were from Japan?"

"Because Japan is so much cooler to you Americans than Korea! And because whenever anyone says Korea, you start talking about the stupid "Gangnam Style" and Kim Jong Un! It is stupid and embarrassing! And it is not as if you can tell us apart anyway! I could be Chinese, Japanese, Mongolian, Cambodian, Vietnamese, and you stupid Americans would not know the difference!" The blondes blinked at her.

"Wow, okay," said the shorter one. "We thought we were your friends, but I guess we're too stupid. Come on, Sarah, let's go." The two blondes turned on their heels and quickly left the shop, leaving their plushies on the counter. The Korean girl watched them leave, wiping her eyes.

"Felt good to say, didn't it?" Rin asked. The girl turned back to her. "Felt good to admit the truth, yes?"

"I am not sure how to feel right now… they were my only friends here…"

"You don't need them. You don't need anyone. But it's closing time. Get out of my face, _burikko_."

* * *

_Notes:_

_Kawaii - An aesthetic where the goal is to be cute, very popular in Japan._  
_Burikko- Japanese slang meaning "pretending child" or "faker"_


	5. Remembering the Past

Back in the Exotic Tea and Spice Shop, Rosalee and her mother were skimming Rosalee's notes without a problem, looking for targets who had been husbands; it was not a lot to go on. DeEtta had to keep asking them for help, as her understanding of the language was never that good to begin with. Nick, Hank, and Trubel concentrated instead on all the weapons and powders Rosalee had pulled out; Trubel and Nick whispered quietly about looking to see if there were any throwing stars in the trailer. Juliette flitted around, refilling tea cups. It was slow going, and the sky quickly grew dark. At one point, DeEtta mistranslated yes another word, getting confused, and sighed loudly:

"Ugh, fucking Japanese." Gloria swiftly reached over and slapped her older daughter up the back of her head. "Damnit, Mom, WHAT?"

"That attitude is precisely why Rosie got the training and you didn't! You have always been so disrespectful of your heritage! The language, the arts... you were always so Eurocentric! That sort of attitude of European superiority is how our family ended up in the camp to begin with, and if we let that attitude continue, who's to say it won't happen again?" DeEtta sighed.

"Ugh, sorry." Hank snorted a little. Gloria turned to him, eyes flashing gold.

"What's so funny?"

"No, it's just... I've gotten speeches like that from my parents before, too. More than I care to admit, actually." Nick cocked his head.

"Really?" Hank nodded.

"My parents met in a jail cell after be arrested during a sit-in; my grandfather was nearly lynched when he came to bail them out. All my life, it has been about showing the white men you're just as good, if not better, and not to stand for anybody putting anybody else down, because if it happened once, it could happen again." Gloria nodded.

"It's a good lesson to remember."

Hours ticked slowly by, and Rosalee was still looking through her notebooks, ignoring the offers for food from her companions. She wasn't hungry; she just wanted Monroe back. At some point, in an effort to feel useful, Hank, Juliette, and Trubel had gone on a coffee run. Around 11:30, after some whispering with Bart and Alice, Gloria lightly touched Rosalee's arm, causing the younger Fuchsbau to jump and woge.

"Honey, we should go home."

"No, we need to find him..."

"Rosalee," Alice appeared at her other side, "we know you want to find him. We do, too, but it's been a long, trying day. We should go home and wash up." Rosalee looked from Monroe's mother to her own, then to Bart. He nodded. Rosalee realized they were alone in the shop.

"Where did everyone go?"

"Honey, they left over an hour ago. They said to call in the morning. And DeEtta got too frustrated, so she went back to your house." Rosalee felt the tears in her eyes again as her mother led her out of the shop and into the car. They arrived at Monroe's house after driving in silence, not even the radio turned on. DeEtta met them at the door. Rosalee bid her mother and… well, they were not officially her in-laws yet… Bart and Alice goodnight, climbed the stairs and flopped down heavily onto her bed. Their bed. Rosalee did not want to sleep alone in this bed on what should have been their wedding night. She tried to fight her exhaustion, but her eyes were heavy. She curled up facing his side; she took his pillow and held it close, burying her face within it, breathing his scent, pretending it was him. But it wasn't him. And she wept.


	6. The Nightmare Begins

Monroe awoke, freezing cold, with a screaming headache. He attempted to put his hand to his aching head, but his arm was pinned above his head by bitingly cold metal. He craned his neck to look at his arms, seeing his wrists trapped under a long metal bar. He slowly came to the realization that he was naked on a metal table. He attempted to move his legs, and found that they were chained, but he could lift them a little bit. As he set them back down, the chains made a deafening clank that made his sensitive ears hurt; a deep breath in, and his sinuses burned, not picking up any scents from the environment. He wondered if something was wrong with his eyes or if the lighting was just exceptionally dim, before finally coming around to the important questions: Where am I? Why am I here? Why am I naked? Is this that weird James Bond dream again? Because if it is, Goldfinger really stepped up his game.

A woman appeared in a doorway he hadn't gotten around to noticing yet; she was tall, thin, and Asian, with a black bob haircut and deep red lipstick. She wore a white kimono covered with golden dragons, which sparkled in the low light. She regarded him silently, walking around the table. She ran a hand along his bare chest, trailing uncomfortably close to his... Monroe woged and snapped.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he snarled. The woman at first seemed taken aback, but when she collected herself she began to laugh. It was a cold laugh, as one makes when they notice a glaring error in an important document made by somebody they dislike greatly, full of schadenfreude instead of mirth

"How predictable... So you're the soon-to-be Mr. Rosalee Calvert, huh?" Monroe narrowed his eyes at the woman.

"What if I am?" She laughed again.

"Rosie-chan and her wolves... that is certainly a mark in your favor, isn't it?" She began to rub his chest again, and Monroe tried in vain to avoid her hands.

"Look... umm, ma'am... I don't know who you are or what the hell is going on, but I kinda need to get home. This has been... well, not fun, but really, I must be getting... OKAY, NO! STOP TOUCHING ME THERE! NOT YOURS!" He moved his hips and knees the best he could to cover himself, baring his teeth again. and she frowned slightly.

"Oh really?" With much more force than he expected, the woman held his legs down. He was not perfectly flaccid, but he was obviously not excited enough for her to get what she wanted. She climbed up onto the table with him, and he again tried to avoid her touch, failing miserably. She sat herself on his knees, taking his manhood into her hands. He bucked under her, trying to throw off her balance, but her tight grip on his sensitive parts put a stop to that.

"OW! Holy hell, what is your issue? GET OFF ME!" She does not respond, staring intently at her hands as they stroke. He wasn't getting any more interested.

"You are quite the gentleman, aren't you?" She asked, opening her kimono. If fell from her shoulders, and Monroe turned his eyes away. He shouldn't look. He didn't want to look. She wasn't Rosalee. She wasn't his... fiancée? Wife? Had he actually managed to get married? He couldn't remember. The tip of his left thumb ran along the length of his ring finger, meeting only skin. Not a good sign; either he'd missed the wedding or he'd lost the ring, both equally disheartening.

"What day is it?" he asked suddenly, hazarding a look at her. She was entirely too skinny for his taste, and he definitely preferred women much... curvier; this woman looked barely legal. She stopped and looked at him questioning. She thought for a moment before she responded.

"Monday." Monroe's panic began to rise again.

"I was out for two days?" She nodded. He cleared his throat and took a few breaths. Calm. Calm. But it was hard with this creepy woman still touching him like that.

"It's Monday night. No sign of dear little Kitsune yet..." She was surprised when a look of understanding crossed his face. She had been hoping for confusion, that he wouldn't know what she was talking about, so she could tell him his precious love was a cold-hearted killer. But no, he already knew.

"Oh, so you know Rosalee from her ninja days... okay..." Rin growled in frustration, slapping him hard on the thigh. "OW! FUCK!"

"Ugh, you are hopeless! And much too talkative! We'll try again at another time." With that, she climbed off the table, shrugged her kimono back on, and walked out without another word. Monroe sighed heavily, willing himself to wake up from this nightmare.


	7. Alone

Rosalee woke from a fitful sleep to an empty bed, still curled around Monroe's pillow. As she sat up, she wondered where he had gotten to before remembering that she didn't know where he was. Had she any tears left, she would have started crying afresh. She felt emotionally exhausted as she dragged herself out of bed, still wearing Monroe's shirt. She padded down the stairs to find Bart, Alice, Gloria, and DeEtta sitting at the dining room table. Alice stood and took her future daughter-in-law into a hug. Bart pushed a box of doughnuts and a carton of coffee in Rosalee's direction, and she nodded her thanks.

"You get any sleep?" the older Blutbad asked. "You look like hell." Alice slapped his shoulder, but the dark circles under everyone's eyes betrayed that none of them had slept very well, either. Rosalee reached up to run her fingers through her hair and found it sticky from leftover hair gel and spray. The Fuchsbau made a face.

"How about you get a shower before we go back to the shop?" Gloria suggested quietly. "Don't worry, we'll save you a doughnut. Take a shower, get dressed, and we'll rally the troops, okay?" Rosalee nodded and walked away. As she began to climb the stairs, she heard Bart grumble:

"I still can't believe this. I can't believe she would put him in danger like this."

"Hush, Bart," Alice chided, "You know she already blames herself."

"And why shouldn't she?" Gloria answered him.

"Because Rosie gave up that life years ago. She... fell into some problems... and probably didn't think she had left any threads dangling. She couldn't have realized this would happen, and I think you should avoid saying that to her. If she's going to get him back, she needs to be of sound mind. If she doesn't have that, she will make mistakes and get herself, Monroe, or both of them killed."

"Yeah, but we need to find him first," DeEtta interjected.

"Do I need to slap you again, Missy?" Rosalee sighed quietly and continued her climb up the stairs.

Upon reaching the bathroom, Rosalee pulled off her jeans and underwear and stood looking in the mirror; Bart wasn't kidding, she looked like hell. Her hair was a tangled birds-nest of sticky curls; her eyes and nose were still red, and she had to summon a great deal of effort to finally pull off Monroe's shirt. This wasn't where she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be in a hotel room right now, preferably screwing her husband's brains out, trading kisses and basking in the glow of being newly married. Rosalee stepped into the shower, turned the water on as hot as she could stand, and curled up on the floor of the tub, letting it run over her skin. She vaguely remembered sitting like this before, many years ago, after she lost her virginity... well, "lost her virginity" was putting it exceedingly lightly. She hadn't been a willing participant in the act... Rosalee shoved that memory from her mind, concentrating instead on making the goopy mess of her hair revert to its normal state. Instead of using her usual, jasmine-scented shampoo, Rosalee decided to use Monroe's. It wasn't perfumed, but had a very distinct chemical bite that her Fuchsbau nose could feel at the bottom of her sinuses. She lathered her hair, scrubbing deeply to the scalp, hoping that the fingers in her hair would help ease the ache in her heart... it didn't. She allowed the shampoo to sit as she cleaned the rest of herself off, and eventually the water began to run cold, soothing her red-tinted skin. Rosalee stayed in the shower until she was pretty sure it would start raining ice cubes, then rinsed her hair out and climbed out of the shower. She wrapped herself in Monroe's towel and fell back into their bed; still the tears would not physically come. She looked over at his nightstand, smiling sadly at the framed picture of the two of them he kept there. It was from about two years ago, before they even started dating, and he had been embarrassed the first time he invited her up to his room, but Rosalee thought it was sweet that he wanted a picture of her nearby. She pulled the picture off the table and held it to her towel-covered breast, curling around it with a sigh.

'_Damn it, Rosalee_,' she told herself after a few minutes, '_you ARE NOT HELPING HIM like this. You need to get your carcass out of bed and fix this..._'

"But it's my fault..." she whispered out loud. Her inner voice didn't back down, taking a much harsher tone inside her head.

'_That very well may be, but this is not getting him back. And you will get him back. Get your ass out of bed, drag a comb through your head, get dressed, and go find him. You need to be his hero.'_ Rosalee sighed, pulling the photo back to look at it; Monroe's smiling face, with eyes sparkling with love even before she had officially agreed to go out with him. He had loved her seemingly since the moment they met... and Rosalee had to admit that she was pretty sure she had loved him, too. The first time they shook hands, it was as if everything in the world had become brighter even as she was mourning Freddy. His warmth, kindness, gentleness, and trust in the Grimm had given her a sense of ease she had not felt in a very long time. She had saved him by bashing a would-be shooter over the head with a brick; he returned the favor in kind many times over, protecting her when she was unable to protect herself.

"I'll find you, I promise," she whispered, putting light fingertips on his photo's chest before sitting up.


	8. Prying Questions

Monroe felt warm hands touching him, drawing him from his sleep. Rosalee was frisky this morning, and he welcomed it after that strange nightmare. He tried to move his arms to capture her in a hug, but couldn't. He smiled in his waking fog.

"Honey, did you tie me up again? You should at least let me.." he opened his eyes, and found himself staring at the Asian woman from the night before, this time wearing a red kimono. She had her hands on his manhood again, and a glint in her eye. Monroe once more tried to shake out of her grasp. "Oh, God, what is your problem?" She frowned as his promising erection softened.

"Damnit..." She growled.

"Well, umm, sorry, but that is... um... reserved... for... not you..." He desperately tried to pull himself together mentally. Logic. Maybe he could convince her to talk it out. "Look, okay, so you knew Rosalee during her ninja days, right? So obviously you must be out for revenge... you know, like the movies... but seriously, what did she ever do to you, and why am I wrapped up in this? Because honestly, it's not like you couldn't go to her shop or something..." She stopped, looking confused.

"Shop? You mean her brother's shop in Chinatown?"

"Umm... yes?"

"Is that where she's headquartered now?" He nodded. "She took it over?" He nodded again. A look of understanding crossed her face. "That explains why we lost our biggest competition..." Rin schooled herself back into business mode.

"So, what's your problem with Rosalee, anyway?" Monroe attempted again. Rin narrowed her eyes.

"You are very persistent with your questions aren't you?" Monroe laughed nervously.

"Oh, you know, just... curious about... things..."

"Well, I will tell you this much, then. You, my dear sir, are bait." Monroe's face went blank. "If I go to her shop, she has the advantage; but if I make her come to me, then I have the advantage. You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you?" Monroe gulped and nodded. "Good. Then we have an understanding. Goodnight." With that, she once more left the room, weaving through the tunnels to the elevator. She pushed the button to go up and entered her shop. It was almost 10 am, time to open.


	9. Intervention

Sunday dragged slowly in the Spice Shop. Bart and Alice spent most of the day on the phone with the airline, trying to cancel their flight back east. They couldn't leave yet. DeEtta and Juliette were delegated to the task of note-taking as Rosalee and Gloria continued to sift through Rosalee's books. Nick and Hank were called to another crime scene, leaving Trubel behind. Nick squeezed Rosalee's shoulder as he left, promising to check with forensics for any updates regarding fingerprints on the shuriken and note.

As the sky grew dark, Rosalee had narrowed the lists in her notebooks to about twenty-five possibilities. Trubel looked up from a notebook of kanji and drawings, her eyes wide.

"You killed them all?" the young Grimm asked, looking at the Fuchsbau in awe. Rosalee dropped her eyes.

"No, I tried not to kill if I didn't have to. The majority of these men ended up... emasculated."

"Oh. Wow. No offense, but you really didn't strike me as that type. You just seem so... Nice. Motherly. Like, you're the first Wesen who didn't try to kill me."

"What about..." Rosalee stopped herself, fighting to say her lover's name. Trubel paled.

"No, no, I'm sorry! Please don't cry again! He was defending himself, but I was scared... I'm sorry!" Rosalee raised her hand for silence, pushing her feelings back down. The cold, suffocating pain was overwhelming for a moment, and she felt herself sway. A pair of strong arms steadied her. Bart.

"I think that's enough for tonight, Rosalee, you're going to make yourself sick." Rosalee looked at the faces surrounding her: looks of sympathy, pity, and Trubel, odd one out, her face glowing with admiration.

Rosalee nodded slowly, allowing them to guide her out of the shop to the car. Once home, she once more climbed the stairs to her empty bed. Gloria promised to make her some soup and bring it up. The cold, empty blankets hid Rosalee's face, and she wept once more.

Rosalee did not know how long she had been crying; it could have been a few moments, it could have been hours, but somewhere within her consciousness, she heard a voice.

"Do not cry." The voice was a convergence of many voices she had known in her life: she heard her mother and father, her Aunt Jeanette and Uncle Henry, Freddy and DeEtta, Nick, Juliette, Trubel, Hank, Bud, Phoebe, her friends, as if they all spoke at once, but without the usual dissonance that comes with a din of voices. Each voice could be heard clearly if she focused. She strained her ears, listening for one voice in particular. Monroe. Please, let me hear his voice, she begged wordlessly. The voice seemed to take her wish into account, for when it spoke again, it was Monroe's voice alone, echoing through her mind.

"Honey, don't cry." Rosalee felt much calmer.

"Where are you?" she whispered, pulling the pillow tighter. It was her anchor, as she felt herself floating, nearly weightless in her own subconscious.

"You need to find me; but you must know, this is not the first time we have been separated. It has happened before, and it may happen again. Do you remember your Sobo's stories?" It was strange hearing Monroe using Japanese words, but Rosalee ignored it.

"Yes. But there were so many..."

"The story about Natsuki?"

"The Kitsune who was stolen from her love and fought until she was reunited with him."

"Yes. That was us in another time."

"Are you sure?" Rosalee felt like a fool asking, but her logical mind was being taxed by the surreal situation.

"Of course I'm sure. Would I make up something like that?"

"No, I guess not..." Rosalee conceded.

"You need to see these memories; they will help you find your strength. You need to find me, Rosalee."

"But..."

"Please. It's a lot, but your Sobo pulled a lot of strings to make this happen." Rosalee took a deep breath.

"Fine. Show me."


	10. The First Look Into The Past

In many of Sano Natsuki's memories, he was there. It was as if he had always been part of her life. 'He' was Ishii Daichi, and his family lived next to Natsuki's. In her earliest memory, the two were walking along the edge of his father's koi pond when they spied a crane eating some of the fish. Knowing how much Ishii Nobu treasured his koi, four-year-old Natsuki picked up a stick and jumped into the water to defend them, not realizing how deep the water was or how heavy her yukata would become when wet. Five-year-old Daichi saw her flailing, and yelled at the top of his voice, scaring away the crane and drawing their fathers out of the house. Sano Kyou waded into the pond to retrieve his daughter, while Daichi and Nobu stood on the grass. Kyou picked up his daughter, told her to calm herself; when she had, he then placed her back in the water. Her panic gone, she found that the water came up to her chin. Kyou picked her up once more, and deposited her on the grass next to Daichi. He then squatted to their level, looking them both in the eye.

"The lesson I wish for you both to learn today," he began in his quiet, gruff voice, "is that bad situations become worse when you panic. Instead of flailing about in times of trouble like a fish without water, be the calm in the chaos. Find your head, and you will see that a solution is there. Do you understand, children?" Both Natsuki and Daichi nodded, and Kyou took Natsuki's hand. He bowed to Nobu, before taking the girl home to change. As the Sanos left, Nobu turned to Daichi.

"What was she doing in the water, anyway?"

"She was trying to defend your fish from a crane." Nobu laughed.

"She is a fighter already! Her mother would be most proud, wouldn't she?"

"Yes, sir."

XxXxX

Rosalee watched as the years fast-forwarded, dryly musing to herself that she was getting the _Christmas Carol_ treatment.

"Well, whatever works, right?" Monroe's voice asked her. "Otherwise it will take too long and he will be lost to you in this life. Only important bits, enough for you to get the whole story, yes?"

"I suppose..."

XxXxX

The next moment was at a point when Natsuki appeared to be about 7. Natsuki and Daichi were in the Sano home; Natsuki was showing Daichi her mother's armory.

"Why doesn't your father use them?" the boy asked as he examined a small dagger. Natsuki shrugged.

"Father is not much of a warrior. Also, I think he misses her too much to touch them. Hey! Look at this!" Natsuki pulled a large wooden club out. It was nearly as tall as she, and had spikes on the end. A kanabo.

"Wow! Can you even pick that up?" Daichi asked. Natsuki mustered her strength, and found she could lift it... however not for very long, as it came crashing back down, slashing Daichi in the face. The boy screamed, and blood started pouring from his forehead. Natsuki threw down the weapon and grabbed a cloth, holding it against his head to try to stop the bleeding. Kyou suddenly was at her side. He took a look at the scene and knew what had happened, so he begged Daichi to calm himself. Once Daichi was no longer screaming and struggling, they found that the cut was not very deep, but it would probably leave a scar. Natsuki apologized over and over to her friend, crying for causing him pain. Kyou looked over his wife's arsenal, cursing to himself. Before his beloved Michi had ridden off to battle, she made him promise that if she did not return he would have Natsuki trained as soon as the little girl could lift her beloved kanabo. Kyou had sworn, not realizing they would be the last words he exchanged with her. He had tried to keep Natsuki from it, but now it was too late and he had to honor his wife. He had to contact Okawa Akio.

XxXxX

"Now, there you were able to hear some of Kyou's thoughts." Monroe's voice echoed as the scene paused like a movie. "You are being granted special opportunity to see and hear things that you yourself were not present for, so you will get a better understanding."

"Why are you showing me this?" Rosalee asked miserably. While it was interesting to be sure, it didn't seem particularly helpful.

"I know it doesn't make a lot of sense right now, but you need all the help you can get. You need to see these things... do you trust me?" Rosalee did, and the scene began again some two months after the kanabo incident.

XxXxX

Okawa Akio agreed to meet with Kyou. In order to get Natsuki out of the house, Kyou gave his daughter a wooden comb for her hair and told her to go next door to the Ishii household to decorate it, as they had a much better selection of paints. Natsuki took the comb, bowed respectfully to her father, and ran next door. Nobu was expecting her, and smiled as he set her up with some paints and inks and a few scraps of paper for Dachi to practice writing. He then left the children alone. They worked in silence for a while before Daichi looked up from the characters he was writing, looking at Natsuki's countenance of intense concentration. He watched her steady hand drag the paint along the dark wood, and soon appeared the image of a sleeping white fox with seven tails curled around it. She gently blew cool air onto the paint to encourage it to dry as she switched to a finer brush and prepared her black paint. When she was satisfied the white was dry enough, she outlined her fox with a thin line of black; she detailed the tiny sleepy face with closed eyes and a nose before tipping the ears and seven tails with black. She then drew some lotus flowers around her Kitsune. When she was satisfied with her work, she turned it to Daichi, who smiled.

"It is lovely, Natsuki-chan! You paint so very well!" The little girl looked shyly up at her friend before impulse got the better of her and she kissed his cheek, noting how he smelled of paper and ink. A blush darted across Daichi's cheeks, and he put a hand to his face as Natsuki giggled. "Natsuki-chan has honored me with a kiss! I must honor her back!" Daichi threw his arms around her neck as Natsuki laughed louder, trying to squirm out of his grasp. He remained steadfast, and he touched his lips to hers. As soon as he did, though, Natsuki went still in his arms, and they kissed as lovers reuniting after a long separation. And in truth, they were: Daichi and Natsuki were another lifetime for a pair of souls that had been entwined almost since the beginning of human consciousness itself. In their lifetimes before and in many of the lifetimes since, they met much older, so the spark of recognition was met by cynicism and doubt; but here, in the purity of childhood, that spark was as bright as a flare in the night, and they knew without a doubt that they were meant to be together. Their kisses were sloppy, lacking the nuance that comes with practice, but both felt as if all was right with the world. They were interrupted by Daichi's mother, calling them to let them know that it was time to eat; they parted, sharing a shy smile, before scurrying to the table, leaving Natsuki's comb to dry.

XxXxX

While Daichi and Natsuki were realizing their love for one another, Kyou was negotiating with the leader of one of the most feared Samurai families in the region. Okawa Akio had trained and fought with Natsuki's mother, and had a pair of sons of his own who were about the same age. Kyou showed Akio to his wife's armory, and the other man picked up Michi's kanabo with a sigh. It was heavier than he remembered.

"Yes, I remember how she loved this thing... Always preferred it to a blade."

"That is why you always allowed her to deal with traitors and spies," Kyou commented flatly. He never did care for his wife's role as enforcer and interrogator, as his own stomach was weak at the idea of torture, even for information. Akio laughed.

"Indeed. And she was very good at it. Now how old is your daughter?"

"Seven."

"So she has not yet had her first change?" Kyou shook his head.

"At least not that I have seen, nor has she mentioned it, but Michi swore she is also a fox." Akio nodded again.

"Even if she is not, she is still from... Well, good stock on her mother's side, at least. I always thought she could do better..." Kyou bit his tongue. This was certainly not the first time he'd heard he wasn't good enough for Michi. But she loved him, and argued and fought to be with him. Maybe he was not worthy, but she was gone now and he was raising their child, so that had to count for something.

"And what sort of payment shall I be receiving?" Akio's frank question drew Kyou back to the present.

"I am sorry?"

"Payment, Sano Kyou. I will be feeding, clothing, sheltering, and training your daughter for at least ten years! These things are not cherry blossoms that can be plucked from just any tree! I need a return on my investment!" Kyou's mouth hung open. Surely Akio knew he was not financially able to offer much... "What would your wife say if she were here right now?" Akio wondered aloud, and suddenly Kyou had a vision of his Michi before him, looking just as she did the day she died... She disappeared, and Akio stood once more where she had been. Kyou felt the tears in his eyes. Michi. He couldn't let her down...

"How many sons do you have?" he finally asked. "And are they all promised?" Akio thought a moment, a manic smile spreading over his features.

"You are willing to offer your daughter as a wife for one of my sons? That is rich! After you encouraged Michi to break her own betrothal for you?" Kyou's face burned with his shame.

"I do not fail to see the irony, Akio. But Natsuki is all I have." Akio nodded.

"Very well. She shall be betrothed to my younger son, Tatsuya. My wife is again with child and we are not sure if it will be a boy or girl, but Natsuki shall be wed to either my second or third son depending on prospects."

"What about your first son? Is he already promised?" Akio shook his head.

"No; however, again, it all depends upon prospects. We are hoping for our first son to have a little... better luck. I am sure you understand." Kyou sighed.

"Very well. I agree." Michi appeared once more, laying a gentle hand on his arm.

"You are doing the right thing," she said softly, and Kyou reached for her. She was solid under his fingers, warm, and in the very much alive. Kyou pulled her close to him and embrace. However when he looked again, Michi was no longer there; instead, he saw the face of Akio, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. And in truth, Kyou wondered if he had.

"Then it is settled. I shall come to collect her at dawn."

XxXxX

After Akio left, Kyou went to retrieve his daughter from his neighbors' home next door. As he came around the side of the house and found his daughter locked in a tight embrace with Nobu's son. The children were kissing each other desperately, and Kyou remembered with a pang that he had in fact fallen in love with Michi at about their age... He almost hated to stop them.

"Natsuki-chan! Come, it is time for supper!" Natsuki and Daichi shared another embrace before she ran to her father. He nodded to Daichi, who bowed slightly in return. Kyou took his daughter's hand and led her away. Once they were out of earshot, he looked down at her.

"So you and Daichi seem to be becoming very good friends, aren't you?" The little girl nodded.

"Perhaps I will marry him one day!" The little girl smiled up at her father; it pained him to see the affection shining in her eyes.

"Perhaps," he answered quietly. Poor child didn't know what life had in store for her and for the little boy; it was very unlikely that their paths would ever cross again. As for marriage, now she was promised to one of Okawa Akio's sons. Hopefully they were not too terrible... it was unfortunate, Kyou did like Daichi very much... he is brought out of his thoughts by tugging on his sleeve. She was waiting for the answer to a question he hadn't heard.

"I'm sorry my dear, what?"

"What is for supper?'

Kyou spent the rest of the night very close to his daughter, knowing that at dawn she would be gone. Natsuki suspected nothing when she laid down in her own bed for the last time.

XxXxX

The next morning, Kyou woke Natsuki up before sunrise, bidding her get dressed and pack a small bag. Natsuki did as she was told, wiping sleep from her eyes as she gathered the things her father indicated, including what appeared to be a folded red fan. Natsuki cocked her head when he held it out to her, and he pulled it apart: in reality, it was a tanto.

"This was your mother's," he said quietly as he handed it to her with a forced smile.

"Father, what is going on?" He sighed deeply.

"You are leaving. Okawa Akio will be here shortly to retrieve you." As if on cue, there was a knock from outside, and Kyou froze. It was time. He made sure his daughter had everything before taking her hand. Another impatient knock came, and they hurried to answer it. Kyou opened the door and a large, severe man swept into their home. He was very large, broad-shouldered, bald, with a moustache and short beard. Natsuki found herself wanting to cower away from him, but her father held her away from his leg.

"Sano Natsuki, may I present Okawa Akio." The little girl bowed to the larger man, who bowed slightly in return, looking her over.

"She is much smaller than I anticipated."

"Her mother was very small as well, if you recall."

"Indeed." He knelt in front of the child. "Natsuki, I want you to hit me as hard as you can." The little girl cocked her head and looked to her father for guidance. Kyou motioned for her to do as she was asked.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Akio nodded.

"Hit me in the face." Natsuki pulled back and punched his cheek as hard as she could. The man fell backward, sitting on his lower legs, shaking his head and rubbing his cheek.

"Well, she certainly packs a lot of power into the tiny little frame. Very well." He stood and took the little girl's hand. "Come, little one, we are going to your new home." Natsuki turned to her father.

"Can't I say goodbye to Daichi?" she asked, tears filling her dark eyes. Kyou felt terribly, but he shook his head.

"No, my dear, it is better this way. You shall learn the ways of your mother's people. Do well, my love." With that he bowed to his daughter and turned away so that neither she nor Akio would see the tears forming in his own eyes. Akio gently tugged Natsuki out into the dawn.

They walked together in the growing sunlight, and Natsuki could not prevent the tears from slipping uninvited past her own eyelids. Why did she have to leave? Why wasn't she allowed to say goodbye to her friend? What did this man have in store for her, and what did the future hold?


End file.
